


An Unexpected Traveler

by AngeNoir



Series: Inktober 2017 [12]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Children, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Original Character(s), Slavery, Space Opera, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:03:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Not only did they not fulfill their contract - which meant they wouldn't be getting the rest of their pay - Napoleon had been unable to pick up a stray. Now he has to figure out what to do with her.Curse his team for being too practical, and for himself for being too soft-hearted.Inktober Drabble 12 = Universe: The Man from UNCLE / List: Space Travelers / Prompt: The Child





	An Unexpected Traveler

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inktober, based on the prompt "The Child" from a Space Travelers list. (You can see [and prompt me!] my initial post about my inktober writings [here](http://outercorner.tumblr.com/post/165938959460/so-i-am-gonna-be-trying-this-inktober-thing-but).)

"You can’t keep her.”

Napoleon Solo, one of the most infamous thieves throughout the Rillik Ring Systems and one of the most feared mercenaries in the Viridan Quadrant, did not even turn his head to look at his copilot.

“It is impractical. To keep her would be the height of irresponsibility.”

When Napoleon still did not respond, the copilot - Napoleon’s blood-partner, Illya Kuryakin - snarled something under his breath and stood up violently from his seat, storming away from the cockpit into the belly of the ship.

As much as Napoleon did not want to hear his partner’s words, he knew them to be true. He and his team had been sent to locate a missing person, and had instead found a trafficking ring - and proof that the person they had been looking for had perished already in trillium quarries on X’ridu 9.

And they had found Oriah.

Oriah wasn’t the normal human flavor that Napoleon was; like Illya, she was some mix between a humanoid and a human, enough so that her face returned human-like features, but with enough distortion to tell her blood was mixed. She barely came up past Napoleon’s knee, and her brilliant purple eyes, all four of them, were always open wide and focused on the world around her, taking everything in with silent awe.

She was quick to laugh, even after what she had experienced, and she loved pressing her face against the ports set randomly in the ship, staring out at the stars.

She was a former slave, and Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby were mercenaries and thieves. They had no idea how to take care of a child, let alone what to do with one.

(At least Napoleon had known enough to get mad when Gaby decided to show off her extensive weaponry to the little chit; he had known that he and his crew had parental issues, but he had not realized how deep-seated until Gaby frowned up at him and said point-blank, “She should know how to shoot. She’s already five cycles old.”)

But there was something about the way her coils wrapped about his hands, her hands reached for his, and her laugh rang out through the narrow walkways that buoyed his heart. He had gotten attached, dangerously so, and he knew that he couldn’t be.

It was unrealistic, that was what it was. There was nothing for her to do. They regularly had to avoid the Imperial Fleet, and it was rare to never that they actually captured their goal without at least  _some_  people shooting at them. That was no environment for a child, and he knew it.

He also knew that she had been a slave; she had been chipped, and it was only because they were in space that the corporation that owned her hadn’t found her yet. Once they made landfall, the chip would reactivate, pinging her location to the nearest mercantile ship and flagging them that a slave of theirs had wandered off. The people who would remove the chips were few and far between, as the punishment was three-generational - you, your children, and your children’s children would have to pay your debt to the corporation you stole from. No one risked it, not for people who had, for the most part, voluntarily sold themselves to rid themselves of their debts.

Illya was a former slave, in fact. He still had a scar in the center of his back from where the corporation finally released him due to outstanding and exemplary work. He never talked about it, for all that they were partners in every way. Blood-partners were akin to family; they had shared blood and firewalls, and could in some cases even read one another’s thoughts without outside assistance. For the most part, Napoleon was aware of Illya’s intentions and meanings beneath his prickly outer layer, but in this Illya was stubbornly silent and blocking Napoleon from accessing any shared information between them.

“He’s right, you know.”

Gaby, now - the silver-haired, short and stocky Bludthoran met his gaze steadily.

“I know,” Napoleon ground out. “That doesn’t change the fact that she is a  _child_. Even if it is a generational slavery contract, you know the statistics - children born into the system rarely leave the system. She deserves so much more.”

It was hard for Gaby to relax in the copilot chair - it was designed for bipedals, not quadpedals - but she propped herself in it as best as she could and draped her arm along the console, tapping her long nail almost absently. “You realize, of course, that even if, by some miracle, your contacts scared up someone willing to remove the chip, and by some miracle we managed to find someone to care for her on a planet somewhere, and by some miracle we were around every cycle for a decent amount of time, there is still no guarantee she will have an easy life? There is poverty and evil everywhere in the galaxy; removing her from one bad situation does not preclude her from ending up in another one.”

“No,” Napoleon agreed, looking determinedly straight ahead at the vast emptiness of space. “No, I cannot believe that. I cannot believe that all children will have to face the choices Oriah would have had to face. I cannot believe that all citizens are cowards, unwilling to put their lives on the line for someone who desperately needs help. I just... have not had time to think of a plan. You must give me time.”

Gaby tapped her nail again before sighing. “You realize Illya does not want her to go either, correct?”

At that, Napoleon swiveled his head to look at her in astonishment.

“He is simply more pragmatic and realistic than you are, that is all. He knows the numbers - has probably run them more than once - and so he had hardened himself because he could see you had not.”

Now, Napoleon felt guilt. It was never his intention to make Illya the villain of the piece, though it always seemed to turn out that way. With a sigh, he glanced at her and shook his head. “We’ll have to make landfall soon for fuel. I have three standard units before then. I’ll figure something out.”


End file.
